#crowchat

 Beady black eyes shuttered halfway when his nails made its way underneath her ear. Stroking longways against pretty black wings Phil relaxed into his big overstuffed armchair, fabric pinching against his shape, and absentmindedly stared out the window as he continued stroking one of his murder. It had been snowing this morning, sun glinting off the ice crystals like a flurry of broken chandelier, and he thought back to his conversation with Foolish a day earlier. He smiled to himself under his robes at the memory.

“Are you sure you aren’t going to go insane?” 

“They’ll make use of the room,” a jittery hand sprinkled more ground diamond onto the white enamel pane. Phil couldn’t be certain it wouldn’t shatter in his grip “I just didn’t expect- I just didn’t expect it to get this big”

“There’s twice the bedrooms in this place than there are people on this server, Foolish” lips pinching trying to hold back a piteous smile at the absurdity of it all, a man who could control life itself bending to the will of two teenagers and a piglin.

“They’ll make use of the room.” He said more firmly. Philza left him to it.

Angela squawked when his fingers once again grazed a pinfeather, a new waxy stub being slowly rubbed away in indignance of her sensitivity. She bumped away his hand once it had scattered in determination to complete the preening herself. 

“I see how it is then. Go, shoo, get one of the others to help you before you hurt yourself with that clumsy beak of yours” He mumbled, not unkindly, and patted her away until she took root with the others. “You’re so stubborn sometimes” Phil called to the aviary, the only answer he received being an offended squawk from the other side of the room. A grin, and he was back to staring thoughtlessly out the window being frosted with snow. Another few crows lifted off to join him while he sat.

He wondered how long it would be, until Techno arrived back in the time between noon and sunset. The crows picked at his bundled kimonos, quilts, scarves, while he did, wings twisting in discomfort after hours of sitting and reading and poring over the week's events as he had always liked to do on a Friday evening. The blizzard continued to pick up in an antagonistic fury, but all Philza did was think. It was one of his favorite times to be living, he decided, in a flurry that covered up the pinkish clouds and laid the sun down in its soft blanket with crows nesting amongst his layers that ever so often nuzzled or nipped or played with his hair. The night fell away before him, opening up to a long stretch of stars and snow and pale blue Dark, and calmness overtook that little spruce cabin.

Late into the night, Techno pushed open the door to a cabin adjacent with numb limbs and cold-encrusted bristles. Shoving past the harsh winds and fumbling the lock closed, he decidedly collapsed against the wooden chair set towards the table and looked down, hesitantly pulling open the laces on his boots. Completely shorn-through socks greeted him and he groaned, head in hands, tusks poking into his palms fiercely, until a kind of purred chirp disturbed him out of his own head. Technoblade looked up only to be met with the face of a member of Philzas chat. The voices rang out inside him for a moment, yelling about how cute the little raven was when it cocked its head, choirs of “Technochirp” “Birdnoblade”, but he shut them all out in favour of scrutinizing the beady black eyes poring into his soul. It was too late at night to deal with their noise. The crow gently tapped Techno’s snout before cocking its little head towards the fireplace; Techno hadn’t spared the brick and mortar a glance since he’d come in.

The fire was lit, playing silently and scooping up ash as it went, sleeping bag rolled out a little ways from the hearth. There were a couple furs over-top of gray featherdown pillows, and next to those a thicker one made of hay-stock. The quilt laid underneath for extra padding was a nice touch.

Techno snorted and turned back to the bird still standing comfortably on the table. It had tucked its head a little, better access for nipping at the stitches dug into the soft red cotton that made up his robe. He couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed.

“C’mon bud. You hav’ a letter for me?” The bird finally backed off and started pecking at its leg, trying to get the tie undone. Instead, the beak was blocked by a hoof -courtesy of Technoblade- and clumsily untied until a roll of yellow sugarcane no bigger than its carrier’s wing was lifted off. The minuscule writing had this carrier labeled as Michelangelo, and Technoblade nodded approvingly.

Coming over in the morning. 

Let M.A. light the fire. Thought you’d 

be cold.

Make sure you’ve eaten.

Go to bed.

    -Phil

Looking up bewilderedly at the tiny little thing on his table, he grunted a quick “You lit this thing?” The bird nodded and he very quickly decided to start hiding his flammables from his friend's flock, before finishing the letter and placing it on the table. He’d worry about food later, for now the bone-chilling wetness that coated him was the main issue. Seeing as his socks were already little more than scraps at this point, he threw them off to the side and started on undoing his thick coats, button by button, until they had been hung up. By the time a clean pair of sleep clothes had been fetched and the laundry had been cast into the basement to be washed at an unspecified date [never, techno knew, it would be washed never] the windows were so dark that they could barely be called windows. Pits to the void, more like, and void pits were much too dark and cold to eat beside. That would have to be saved for morning, then, wouldn’t it. Technoblade would just deal with the fallout later. 

Tucking the blanket farther up to his chin and wrapping them tighter around himself, Techno melted against the warmth of his cabin. It unfroze his limbs, still stiff and rigid from the outside chill, relaxed his muscles further, yet still he thought that something might have been forgotten and it kept him awake. 

A small unassuming feather fluff alerted him to what he had missed. 

“Alrigh’, alrigh’, get over here” Technoblade rolled over and patted the pillow roughly at the confused animal “You’re gonna freeze, n’ then where’ll we be? You’re sleepin’ with me tonight bud” at the realization, Michelangelo gave a quick excited squawk. The run-up, flapping over and landing messily on the piglin’s face, curling up in a whirling ball of crow fluff underneath his chin,and it all ended up in a few cheek scratches and the young fledgeling letting out a happy peep below him. Techno made a surprise oof at the unexpected claws on his face. 

“If you slit my neck while we’re sleepin’ kid, Phil’s gonna be real angry” he grumbled, with no real heat behind it, and, finding that the crows feathers had already grown puffed in sleep, succumbed to it himself.